


Though Pope Benedict XVI is one of the most accomplished Roman Catholic theologians of his era, the aim of his pontificate is not the construction of a new “grand theory” for Catholic theology. Neither is his goal to remake the Catholic Church according to the personal tastes and inclinations of Joseph Ratzinger. Instead, Benedict’s top priority is to reintroduce the fundamentals of the Christian gospel and of Catholic Tradition to the modern world, striving to illustrate their coherence with the deepest truths of human existence. Benedict doesn’t want to put a new gloss on the basic teachings of Catholicism; rather, he wants to lead contemporary men and women to see those teachings with fresh eyes, setting aside the prejudices and assumptions accumulated over the course of the centuries.
That’s the spirit of 10 Things Benedict XVI Wants You to Know. You won’t find a lot of complicated theological concepts or breathtaking new ideas, for Benedict isn’t interested in pushing the envelope of theological discussion. What’s creative about him is, rather, the fresh way he explains core Christian teachings. Benedict is a pope of “the basics,” which he presents in an intelligent, provocative fashion, striving to make clear that Christianity is not merely a set of rules but a resounding “yes” to the dignity of the human person and the embrace of a loving God.
The Church Forms Consciences but Stays Out of Politics
Over the course of his career as a theologian and a Church official, Benedict XVI has resisted any attempt to turn Christianity into a political party. That doesn’t mean, however, the faith lacks consequences for politics. Benedict wrote in his first encyclical, Deus Caritas Est, that “justice is both the aim and the intrinsic criterion of all politics.” According to the moral vision of Benedict XVI, a Christian must work toward a just social order, which among other things implies a special concern for the poor.
In an address to the bishops of Latin America and the Caribbean on May 13, 2007, Benedict endorsed what exponents of liberation theology have called the “preferential option for the poor,” saying it is “implicit in the Christological faith in the God who became poor for us.” And he has not shrunk from drawing the consequences of this option.
Benedict has repeatedly spoken out in defense of the poor, often in language with very concrete political implications. For example, in December 2006 he wrote to German Chancellor Angela Merkel, at the time the president of the G8 group of nations, demanding “the rapid, total and unconditional cancellation” of the external debt of poor countries. The Pope described debt relief as a “grave and unconditional moral responsibility, founded on the unity of the human race, and on the common dignity and shared destiny of rich and poor alike.”
Benedict has shown a special pastoral concern for the struggles of Africa. In June 2005 he announced his intention to call a synod of bishops from Africa to discuss the crises facing the continent. In November 2006, when a new bond measure was launched by the World Bank to raise four billion dollars over ten years for the immunization of children in impoverished nations against preventable diseases, the very first bond was purchased by Pope Benedict XVI.
For Benedict, fidelity to Church teaching and Tradition is not opposed to social concern; to conceive of things that way, he believes, would be to pit faith against works, a position Roman Catholicism rejected during the Protestant Reformation more than five hundred years ago.
At the same time, Benedict is clear that the role of the Church is to hold up moral values, not to provide a specific political blueprint for translating those values into political choices. “If the Church were to start transforming herself into a directly political subject, she would do less, not more, for the poor and for justice,” the Pope said during his trip to Brazil, “because she would lose her independence and her moral authority, identifying herself with a single political path and with debatable partisan positions.
“The Church is the advocate of justice and of the poor, precisely because she does not identify with politicians nor with partisan interests,” Benedict continued. “Only by remaining independent can she teach the great criteria and inalienable values, guide consciences and offer a life choice that goes beyond the political sphere.”
The Virtue of Patience
Saint Augustine once wrote that “the deeds of the Word are, for us, words too.” He meant that we learn as much from what Jesus did as from what Jesus said. In a similar vein, popes teach the world through their actions, their personalities, and their “styles,” in addition to their explicit speech. For example, perhaps one of the most eloquent moments of John Paul II’s papacy came near the end on Easter Sunday 2005, when despite his obvious agony, he spent twelve long minutes at the window of his apartment, struggling to speak to the faithful gathered below in Saint Peter’s Square and to the millions watching around the world. The way John Paul poured himself out in service that day spoke volumes about his self-sacrifice, even though he never managed to utter a single word.
Probably without being conscious of it, Pope Benedict XVI is teaching the world something through his own behavior. He is exceedingly humble and gentle, which stands in stark contrast to the bluster and braggadocio often associated with global titans in the worlds of politics, finance, and culture. He is living proof that one does not have to be an exhibitionist to lead and to inspire.
Perhaps more important, he’s teaching a microwave world that expects instant results to slow down a bit, to catch its breath, and to look before it leaps. Upon Benedict’s election, there were fevered expectations of swift and dramatic action in many quarters. Some expected a root-and-branch reform of the Roman Curia, the Catholic Church’s central organ of government. Others anticipated a sweeping crackdown on dissident theologians and liberal activists within the Church. To this day, many pundits and commentators are still waiting for the “real” Benedict to emerge from beneath his patient, gentle façade; what they don’t seem to appreciate is that what they regard as a façade is, in fact, the real Pope.
Benedict is a man of deep faith, which means he realizes that, ultimately, the vicissitudes of the Church and of the world are in God’s hands, not his. There’s a serenity about him, a lack of what the Germans call angst, rooted in his belief that the final act of the story in which all of us are involved has already been written, and it ends well. Thus he does not feel the need to lurch from one initiative to the next or to resolve all the Church’s problems in a single bound. He understands better than most the complexities of those problems, both intellectually and pastorally, and he also grasps the importance of thinking carefully before taking steps that may have unforeseen consequences.
In an impatient world, Pope Benedict XVI is a very patient man. To paraphrase Saint Augustine, occasionally his very lack of deeds is an important “word” for the harried women and men of his time.
John L. Allen, Jr., is the senior correspondent for the National Catholic Reporter and senior Vatican analyst for CNN. He’s the author of The Rise of Benedict XVI (Doubleday) and the forthcoming book Mega-Trends in Catholicism: Ten Forces Turning the Catholic Church Upside Down (Doubleday, 2008).
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